


Come Crashing Down

by Lauzzkaban



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Jon is actually Ned Stark’s son, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, R Plus L Does Not Equal J, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Violence, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauzzkaban/pseuds/Lauzzkaban
Summary: “Don't say this is the end, I think I'm lost again.Thank you for your patience, the time that you gave me,I think I never knew you were trying to save me.Free me from the shadow that lay on my shoulder,Please don't say it's over, it's over, it's over.I confess I was weak, got my heart full of greed, wanted more than I need.I'm standing on the edge, afraid of emptiness.Don't leave me, I'm begging you my friend.”•Jon Snow was never going to be the same. Not after everything he had been through. He tried to make her see that he wasn’t worth the fight, but she was like a battering ram, determined to break down his walls. How sweet it would have been to love and be loved by her, if only he were capable of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, readers! Now, I know I already have a Jonerys fic on the go, but I’m not sure I’m going to continue with that one, at least not until S8 is over.
> 
> This one, though, I’ve got all planned out and a good half of it written, so it should flow nicely. I hope you enjoy it, and please do leave a comment if you do.
> 
> The beginning part of the summary is lyrics from the song “Save Me Once Again” by The Rasmus, it felt so fitting I just had to use it. It’s one of my favourite songs, so do check it out if you’re interested.
> 
> Away we go.

Daenerys inhaled slowly and deeply from her seat beneath the open window. The slightly humid afternoon air drifted through in a gentle breeze, filling her with the smell of mown grass and smoke from the neighbours’ barbecues. It was quiet, save for the distant sound of cars passing below and the gentle buzz of conversation from downstairs. She loved this time of year. She loved how the days were warm and inviting, waking up in the morning to sunlight and birdsong and children playing in the streets. Most of all she loved the evenings, the air still warm but slightly damp, bringing with it the smell of rain and the promise that the town would soon be overcome with changing colours, early sunsets and thunderstorms. She couldn’t wait for the thunderstorms.

“Is this really necessary, Sansa?” she asked impatiently, wincing as her silver hair was pulled painfully for the eighth time in half as many minutes in Sansa Stark’s attempt to fashion it into some sort of elaborate braid, yanking her from her thoughts. Sansa sharply tapped the top of Dany’s head with the back of the hairbrush, causing her to swear.

“Would you just hold still?” Sansa retorted sternly, and she continued to tug and twist Dany’s hair around her delicate fingers. “It’s the last party of the summer, we need to look our best.”

Dany rolled her eyes at that. She had never been one for parties, least of all the hugely extravagant and rowdy kind that Margaery Tyrell threw, and this one promised to be even more extravagant and rowdy than usual because Margaery was leaving to study abroad. The Tyrells were one of the country’s wealthiest families, which meant Margaery could fit the entire school into her father’s mansion and no expense was spared when it came to decorations and food and music. Dany hated how stifling the crowds were, she hated the noise and the rich, lavish food and drink. She would much rather pour herself a glass of wine and curl up with a book on the swinging seat in the Stark’s backyard.

Sansa, however, was the complete opposite. She adored the music, the buzz of gossip that floated through the house, the elegant dresses and the beautiful ways the girls did their hair. The two girls had many things in common, many things that made their friendship so easy, but their aptitude for partying was not one of them. Even now, Dany wasn’t sure how Sansa had managed to talk her into going in the first place.

“I don’t know who you think I’m trying to impress,” Dany quipped as she felt Sansa’s hands leave her hair at last, turning in the chair to face her friend with a knowing smirk on her face. “You’re the one lusting after Margaery’s brother, not me.”

Sansa snorted, giving Daenerys another whack with the hairbrush. “I am not _lusting_ after Loras!” she snapped back, feigning outrage, but the twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “Now hurry up, I don’t want to be late.”

“ _Fine_ , I’m going!” Dany laughed and raised her hands in mock surrender. She took the party dress Sansa had chosen for her off the hook on the back of Sansa’s bedroom door and headed out of the room to change in the bathroom. She changed quickly, applied the thinnest layer of lipstick she thought Sansa would let her get away with and shoved her jeans and t-shirt into a bag to take home the following morning. She knew Sansa would fight her into a pair of heels before they left, but her trainers were comfortable so for now she slipped them back on and she was just admiring Sansa’s handiwork in the mirror when there was a knock on the door. She called out that she would be just one second, flattened the front of her dress with her hands and walked back to the door. When she opened it, her breath caught in her throat and her heart missed a beat as she came face to face with Jon Snow.

Jon was Sansa’s half-brother and had once been one of Dany’s closest friends, but she hadn’t seen him in months, much less spoken to him. She never really understood why he cut contact with her, all she knew was that they had done everything together until they were around fourteen, then he had lost his mother and never called her again. For a while she didn’t mind, she put it down to grief and didn’t begrudge him for refusing to return her calls. After a while, she grew hurt and angry that he wouldn’t let her in, wouldn’t share with her his pain. She left message after message begging him to call her back, to let her see him through his grief. Eventually, perhaps to protect herself, she just stopped caring. He never even acknowledged her if he passed her in the school halls, or in the street, or on the stairs in the Stark’s house and if she greeted him or tried to engage in conversation he would blank her completely or turn and walk the other way. Then three months ago he vanished, Ned Stark mentioned something about him visiting his Uncle Benjen somewhere in the North, and Dany had felt relieved, relieved that she didn’t have to try anymore. She had almost forgotten he even existed until she saw him on the other side of that bathroom door.

The years had changed him somewhat, she noticed. He was larger, at least a head taller than she remembered and much more muscular. His hair was longer, a mess of curls as black as charcoal that fell about his face. His face was different too. His jaw was sturdier, more angular, the chubbiness Dany remembered around his cheeks gone to make way for sharp cheekbones. Coarse, black hair covered his neck, jaw and upper lip, some of it even finding it’s way to his cheeks. Jon’s eyes struck Dany the most, though, still as dark as she remembered, almost treacle coloured, but they didn’t seem to shine the way they used to. The sparkle of life she had once been so fond of wasn’t there and she briefly wondered what had happened to make him lose it.

“Dany,” he uttered in surprise, looking almost as shocked to see her as she was to see him, and Dany shivered slightly at the sound of his voice. Recovering himself quickly, he added; “Nice dress.”

Dany noticed then that he was smirking at her, though not unkindly. It was a playful smirk, childish, like the one she had loved so many years ago. She glanced down at herself briefly, having almost forgotten about the party dress she was wearing. It was a beautiful, flowing number of powder blue, loose at her shoulders and tightening inward at her waist – which was accented with an intricate gold belt – and flowed loosely downward to stop just above her knees. The neckline was cut a little too low for Dany’s liking, and as Jon looked her up and down she could have sworn his eyes lingered there a little too long.

“Oh, uh, th-thank you,” she stuttered and inwardly cursed herself for acting like a nervous schoolgirl. “I didn’t know you were back.” she added, to take the focus off herself. In truth, his eyes boring into her were starting to make her feel self conscious.

“I got back last night.” replied Jon. Dany nodded her acknowledgment.

“How’s your uncle?” she asked politely, and for a moment a look of confusion crossed Jon’s face, his brow furrowed.

“What? Oh... Fine. He’s fine, thanks.”

The pair stood in an awkward silence for what felt like an age, Dany shifting from one foot to the other and Jon’s hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. It took a moment for Dany to notice how thick the air had become with all her unanswered questions, the anger and confusion she had thrown away flooding back now that he stood here in front of her.

“Hey, listen, maybe we could... we could get coffee sometime? Catch up?” she suggested. Jon tensed slightly, dropping his gaze to the floor. Dany didn’t think she’d ever seen him look as sad as he did in that moment and she felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite put a name to in the pit of her stomach.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, voice low and quiet. She took a step towards him then, ducking her head slightly so that she might refocus his attention to her face.

“Why not? It’s been so long, Jon, I just thought that maybe we could–“

Her plea was cut short as Jon’s head snapped up and Dany stepped back slightly when their gaze met again. Something flashed in his eyes that she had never seen before, glowing like hot coals, and his lips were pressed together in a hard line. For just a moment, Dany was afraid.

“I said _no_ , Daenerys.” he asserted, his voice not quite a shout but still louder than she had ever heard it. She flinched. He had never called her Daenerys before and she was surprised at how much it hurt. He shoved past her then, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Dany could feel hot tears burning behind her eyes and she inhaled sharply to keep them at bay. She swore to herself then, that would be the last time she tried to reconnect with Jon Snow.


	2. Chapter 2

Dany arrived at the Tyrell mansion later that evening feeling utterly miserable, with Sansa at her side a vision in sheer lavender and gold, her hair the colour of autumn and cascading down her back, looking entirely as though she were made for this. She could practically feel the excitement that radiated from her friend as they ascended huge stone steps and entered through the double-doors. Solid oak, hand-crafted and at least a hundred years old, Dany couldn’t help but think those doors were much more interesting than anything Margaery Tyrell had to offer.

She had been dragged here on so many occasions but that night it looked bigger than she had ever realised. The foyer alone was probably bigger than the entire ground floor of her house, with beautiful white marble floors, and what had to be near thirty windows that stretched from the ground all the way up to the ceiling. Huge, marble, mahogany-trimmed staircases at either side of the room lead to a balcony that held doors to some of the upper rooms and long, glass tables lined the back of the foyer, piled high with bowls of punch, bottles of various expensive champagnes and ales, and silver platters containing all sorts of different foods, which Dany knew she would hate just by looking at them.

The house was already alive with activity. There had to be at least a hundred people here already, and upbeat music pulsed through the speakers so loudly that the buzz of fifty conversations barely did a thing to muffle it. A group of boys, older than Daenerys by the look of them, stood at the bottom of the staircase to her right, egging each other on as they chugged tankards of ale without stopping to take a breath. Girls seemed to travel in flocks, sipping champagne from delicate crystal flutes and giggling all the while. Dany couldn’t help but feel wholly out of place.

She hadn’t been looking forward to this in the first place, but she had made her peace with showing her face for Sansa’s sake and allowed herself to get into the party mood as much as she could. Until she’d seen Jon.

Sansa’s elbow nudged her from her thoughts and she offered Dany a reassuring smile. _Forget about him_ , it said. Dany took comfort in the lack of closeness Sansa shared with her half-brother, finding solace in knowing that she could say whatever she needed to say without causing offence – and after their earlier encounter she had done just that. She felt a little better for it, that much was true.

There was a bar on the far right side of the room, so Sansa led her there – with the sole intention of making sure she did forget about him – and ordered them each a cocktail that Dany didn’t quite catch the name of. It came in a tall glass with a straw and was thick, blood-red and garnished with mint leaves. Dany eyed the strange drink suspiciously before lifting it to her lips to take a wary sip. Then she found herself coughing, hacking violently and screwing her face up in disgust as the bitter taste of aniseed burned her tongue. She hated aniseed more than anything, Sansa knew that so for a moment she was confused about why she would order it – until she saw her smirking slyly behind her glass. Dany widened her eyes in false horror, staring at Sansa as though she had just killed a man.

“You’re a cruel mistress, Sansa Stark,” she jested, unable to stop the giggle that escaped her lips. Gods, it felt good to laugh.

“I try,” Sansa bit back and grinned, shrugging slightly and laughing along with her. “Maybe you should stick with wine, though.”

Dany’s mouth twitched again and she raised her eyebrows, sarcasm dripping from her words as she muttered; “Oh, d’you think?”

She left her cocktail on the bar, excused herself and crossed over to one of the drinks tables to pour herself a glass of wine from one of the many expensive bottles – a red vintage that she couldn’t pronounce the name of – taking a large gulp to get rid of the aniseed taste remaining on her tongue. She refilled her glass then, and wandered through the house in search of Sansa.

To her aggravation, she found Jon first. When she entered the adjoining room he was there at the back, in all his glory, donning dark jeans and a grey button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Half his hair was tied into a tight knot at the back of his head, the other half hung loose around his neck. He held a tankard in one hand, his other arm was slung around the shoulders of a girl, slender with hair the colour of fire. She had heard about Ygritte, of course, but she had never seen her. She clenched her jaw in annoyance at his audacity. _Of course he had to be here_.

She watched as his eyes scanned the room briefly and doubled back when he spotted her standing there, watching him, judging him. He scowled at her, his dark eyes trained on her. Something in her knew that he was trying to intimidate her, to make her look away, so she didn’t. She kept her stare fixed on him, insolent and unwavering. Eventually he seemed to realise that she wasn’t going to back down, so he changed tack, pulling Ygritte to him and seizing her lips with his own. Their kiss was greedy, animalistic as Ygritte’s hands came to clasp Jon’s buttocks and Dany scoffed in utter disbelief at how obnoxious they were being. She turned away, thankful to see Sansa approaching her.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Sansa told her, shouting a little to be heard over the music.

“I’ve been here,” Dany replied flatly. Sansa caught her tone and glanced off to the side to where Jon and Ygritte stood. Dany didn’t even want to know what they were doing now, but from the way Sansa’s eyes bulged she guessed that it was something vulgar.

“Seven hells,” Sansa cussed loudly. “Ignore him, he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“I know, I know,” Dany muttered, taking a shuddery breath in an attempt to regain some sort of composure. “You know what? To hell with Jon Snow. Let’s dance.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “You, dance? Really?”

“Yes, me! I’m not going to let _him_ ruin my night,” she took Sansa’s hand in hers and led her out toward the dance floor. “You’re always saying that I should let my hair down, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

She did exactly that. Sansa didn’t need to be told twice, and before long they were lost in the music, hips swaying in rhythm with the beat. Once or twice, Dany glanced over to see if Jon was watching her. The first time he had been, scowl still on his face, and she felt satisfied to know that she had pissed him off as much as he had her. The second time, he was gone.

An hour and a half and several glasses of wine later, Dany started to feel hot and sweaty. Loras had found them, and Sansa was happily dancing with him, so she excused herself and stepped out into the backyard to get some air. She inhaled deeply as the fresh breeze hit her face, glad for the coolness of it. She braced herself against the wall to slip off her heels and almost moaned in relief, dropping her bag to the ground with them. Why on earth Sansa had thought she needed shoes a size too small and four inches high was beyond her. She was just beginning to appreciate the peace and quiet when a series of furious mutterings came from beside her. She couldn’t make out the words but she recognised the voice instantly and froze.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled to herself, rolling her eyes. _What is it with this guy tonight? Everywhere I look, he’s there_. “Are you following me?”

Jon looked up from where he stood, one hand braced against the wall, the other resting on his abdomen. Under the porch light she noticed that his face was white as a sheet and his eyes were glassy, though still veiled with the glare he had been wearing all evening. There was a short silence, and then Jon responded by hunching over and vomiting into the bushes. Dany’s irritation vanished in a flash, replaced with concern, and in two strides she was beside him, scooping up the loose curls of his hair and holding them out of the firing line. They stood that way for several minutes, Dany holding back Jon’s hair and soothing him gently as he threw up again and again, until the foul smelling, off-brown mess became nothing but water and acid. She didn’t even want to know how much he had been drinking, but she guessed at a lot.

When the dry heaving wore off, Dany released Jon’s hair and gently gripped his arm to help him straighten up. Once he gained his balance, he looked at her. She expected a thank you, at the very least, but instead Jon rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Did you not get the hint earlier?” he snapped, his words slurred but laced with something new, something that almost sounded like hatred. Dany raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“Why won’t you just leave me alone, Daenerys? What do you want from me?”

Dany’s nostrils flared. She couldn’t believe how ungrateful he was. “I don’t _want_ anything from you, Jon. Seven hells, I only came over here to help you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he countered, his eyes on the ground and his voice quiet but still indignant, even hostile. She had never in her life had any desire to be violent, but in that moment she wanted to slap the scowl right off of Jon Snow’s face.

“So what was I supposed to do? Let you fall into a pool of your own vomit?”

“I don’t know, maybe. If that’s what it takes for you to leave me alone.”

It was Dany’s turn to glare then, her anger bubbling hot and fierce in her belly.

“You know what, Jon?” she demanded, ducking her head so he had no choice but to look at her. “You were the one who spoke to me first earlier. You could have gone straight into the bathroom and gone right back to pretending I don’t exist, but you didn’t! You walked back into _my_ life, not the other way around and if you’re so desperate to be left alone then maybe you ought to go back to wherever it is you’ve been all summer.”

Jon visibly flinched at her words and his face became clouded with a devastating mixture of hurt, sadness and rage. Dany turned to walk away, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks, but she had barely taken a step when Jon’s calloused hand grabbed her roughly by the arm, yanking her towards him and shoving her back against the wall. She gasped, from shock or from the pain of his grip she wasn’t sure, but she squirmed slightly, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. He only held her tighter. His face was so close to hers, his breathing so ragged and heavy that she could smell the rancid mixture of ale and vomit. The darkness in his eyes from earlier was back, the menace that made her feel afraid for just that one fleeting moment. She focused on keeping her breathing calm and steady, determined not to let him know she was rattled.

“You have _no_ idea why I left, Daenerys.” he said calmly, speaking slowly and emphasising every word. “You have no fucking idea, so don’t _ever_ bring it up again.”

“Get your hands off me,” she demanded firmly, shrugging her arm out of his grasp. He let her go but remained pressed close, his glare never faltering. She refused to be the one to break eye contact, staring him down defiantly as the fury in his eyes burnt hot like embers.

She didn’t know how long they stood that way, but after a while the gaze was broken suddenly by Jon turning away to vomit again. His consciousness wavered slightly and he sank to his knees and Dany lurched forward to catch him before he hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know this chapter ends rather abruptly, sorry about that! It wasn’t actually supposed to end here but the chapter ended up being so long that I had to split it into two parts. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy it :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! I am so sorry this took so long to post. The file that contained this chapter corrupted and I lost everything - including all memory of what I wrote so I had to start from scratch. 
> 
> I’ve finally finished rewriting it, sadly I don’t feel it does justice to what I had before but I tried my best to remember everything.
> 
> I realise it all seems a little fast-paced and jumbled right now - that’s intentional! We’ll see a little more structure and explanation from both Jon and Dany’s points of view as the story progresses, but for now, I hope this chapter is worthy of you. <3
> 
> Please don’t be afraid to leave honest feedback, I thrive on the opportunity to learn how my readers tick and how I can improve for you!
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience, if you’re still here, and I hope you enjoy this one.

Jon’s eyes were rolling back as he slipped in and out of his drunken stupor, and as Dany cradled his head in her lap she briefly wondered if he might have taken something. She tried to shift him onto his side so that if he was sick again he would not choke, realising as she did so that there was a very noticeable chill to his pale skin despite the sheen of sweat that dampened his shirt and hair. Her chest heaved with each panicked breath and her hands trembled as she moved him, her eyes darting around frantically for any sign of someone to help her. The backyard was deserted as the party raged inside. She could hear nothing but her own ragged breathing, the distant thump of the music which was muffled by the walls, and Jon’s intermittent groaning; which Dany was quietly thankful for as the only thing telling her irrational mind that he was still alive. Noticing then that she had left her phone in her bag by the door, just out of reach, she inwardly debated between rushing inside for help and staying where she was so that he wouldn’t have to lie completely in the damp grass.

As she sat on the ground deliberating what to do for the best, shivering against the chill of the late-night breeze, she became vaguely aware of a dull throbbing pain beginning to radiate around her upper arm and she felt a toxic mixture of anger and hurt rising in her chest that made her heart thump wildly as she wondered what she had done to make Jon want to hurt her. The look in his eyes had been menacing, almost frenzied as he pressed her against the wall and Dany had felt a sharp pang of sadness as she stared into them. She didn’t remember ever seeing Jon look like that, not from the moment she had met him at the tender age of five years old. The Jon she remembered was gentle and kind with a wicked sense of humour, and looking back on their nine years of friendship she could count on one hand the number of times he had not been laughing or smiling. _Gods, that smile_. The thought of it seemed to knock the air from her lungs. It had once been dazzling and infectious, lighting up every room he walked into. Up until that moment, Dany had not realised that she missed it and the mischief it stirred within her otherwise innocent soul. Back then, Jon could talk her into anything with a flash of it. 

For fear that she may crumble, she looked away from his face then as she thought back to the last time she had seen his happiness with a hopeless sense of longing. They had been barely fourteen. It was the depths of winter and she had slipped on the ice on the walk home from school. She had bitten her lip as she hit the ground and split it open, ever the image of clumsiness and Jon’s laughter had escaped him before he could stop it, deep and rambunctious. Dany remembered how the sound had made her heart swell despite the throbbing in her knees and the blood trickling down her chin. He had crouched before her when he noticed and reached out a calloused thumb to wipe the blood away. The memory of his gentle smile and the mischievous glint in his eyes made Dany want to cry. Four years, four long, painful years since she had even been close enough to him to see him smiling; but she suspected that he had done very little of it in that time even when she couldn’t see.  _Oh, Jon, what happened to you?_

She was given very little time to dwell on it. Just as she landed on the decision to leave him in the grass to find someone strong enough to help her carry him, her inner monologue was interrupted by loud, raucous laughter approaching from around the side of the large house. A small group of men rounded the corner, shouting and jeering, and Dany huffed out a shuddery breath of relief as the tallest one fixed his eyes on her and she recognised the head of auburn curls that belonged to Jon’s half-brother, Robb. It took a moment for Robb’s gaze to focus fully on them but when he recognised them, the tankard he was holding slipped from his hand and he broke into a jog, dropping heavily to his knees beside them.

“Daenerys. What happened?” he asked, and Dany was surprised at how level and calm his voice was. She expected Jon’s closest sibling to be at least a little concerned by the state he was in, but Robb remained placid and steady as he gripped Jon by the elbows and pulled him sharply into a sitting position. Jon’s eyes fluttered open then, and his shoulders jerked forwards, and Robb barely had time to turn his body to one side before a strangled groan left Jon’s throat and he was vomiting into the grass once more, narrowly avoiding his brother’s lap. 

“Too much to drink, I’m guessing,” Dany answered after a long pause, and Robb sighed heavily as Jon clumsily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn’t seem to hear a word they were saying, he only stared blankly into the night as his eyelids continued to droop and snap open intermittently as though he were a child trying to stay awake through a boring class. “I wondered if he might have taken something. He’s pretty out of it,” she added. Robb shook his head.

“Definitely not, he hates drugs,” he informed her of this dismissively, his concentration on getting one of Jon’s arms around his shoulders so that he could haul him to his feet. Dany took hold of the other arm to aid them. “Can you help me get him to my car?” he asked once the three of them were stable, and Dany failed miserably at hiding the alarm that plagued her features then as she stepped aside to gather her belongings.

“I don’t think–“ she began to protest, her eyes darting to the tankard Robb had dropped. His gaze followed hers and he smiled kindly.

“Don’t worry, I’ve only had one. Designated driver.” he assured her, and for a fleeting moment she felt guilty for thinking he would drive drunk. Robb Stark was the sensible one, he always had been. She had known him almost as long as she had known Jon and he had never given her any reason to doubt him. After some hesitation she nodded and looped Jon’s free arm back around her shoulders, and Robb shifted slightly to take more of his weight.

It took some time to reach Robb’s car. Dany lost count of how many times they had to stop so that Jon could vomit, or regain his footing after stumbling, or to gather even more of his weight as his consciousness wavered again. With each stop Dany became increasingly angry with Jon for putting her in this position and ruining her night with Sansa. She had promised herself that she would not let him get to her, and yet somehow he had managed to do just that. The more time that passed with his weight on her shoulder and the sour stench of his breath filling the air, the more she regretted not leaving him on the ground to fend for himself. She was glad when they finally reached the car, thankful to feel his weight leave her as Robb manoeuvred him across the back seat. 

Most of the drive back to the Stark house was quiet, save for the rumbling engine and Jon’s drunken snoring. It was only when they reached a red light not far from home that Robb finally broke the silence to ask Dany what had happened. She followed his line of vision to where it had fixed on her upper arm and she was surprised to find angry, purple bruises already there. Not knowing what to say that Robb couldn’t figure out for himself, she just shrugged. It was barely a lie, she really wasn’t sure what had happened to make Jon behave the way he had.

“It’s scary, I know; seeing him like that,” Robb said softly, reaching over to rest a hand comfortingly on her thigh. Dany didn’t move, only hummed quietly in agreement. He wasn’t wrong, and she couldn’t help but wonder how often Jon got himself into such states for Robb to not only know how distressing it was to witness, but also to seem completely unperturbed by it. She had heard the rumours, many of them. They stretched across most of the city, tales of Ned Stark’s unruly illegitimate son and the terrible things he did after dark; drinking, drugs, robberies, fights and assaults – if one could name a crime, there was probably a rumour that Jon Snow partook in it. Dany could not say for sure how much of it was true, but she knew for a fact he had been in trouble with the law at least twice for violent behaviour. Perhaps his actions should not have come as such a surprise to her after all.

“He does this a lot then, does he? The rumours are true?” she said eventually, the bitterness spilling out in her voice before she can stop it, sharp as daggers. She wasn’t sure when they started moving again, but she noticed then that Robb’s hand was no longer on her leg and he was pulling to a stop on the driveway of the Stark house. He glanced at Jon in the rearview mirror but he didn’t look at her again when he replied.

“Not like this, no. He drinks a lot, all the time really, but he only gets himself into this state if something is really troubling him,” Dany scoffed loudly, shaking her head disapprovingly. “He’s been through a lot.”

Dany bit back a laugh then and turned her body slightly to face him, teeth gritted together, violet eyes blazing furiously. “Really? What could he possibly have been through to make him behave like a thug?” she spat. The way Robb’s knuckles grew white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened, Dany could see she had offended him. His jaw hardened, exactly the way Jon’s had, and it was only then that Dany noticed how alike the brothers were. Robb’s head of curls was considerably shorter and more auburn in colour, favouring his mother, but they had the same sturdy jaw and their father’s nose, the same thatch of dark facial hair. Their eyes were identical in colour and shape, the only thing separating them was that Robb’s were soft, full of laughter and gentility. Jon’s were harder than steel and plagued with such ferocious anger. It seemed to age him in a way that he could pass for five years older than Robb, rather than six months his junior.  _How can two so alike be so very different?_

“He’s not– It’s not my place. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you himself,” Robb’s voice hung heavy with sorrow and he swallowed audibly. “He does stupid things, but he’s not a bad person, Daenerys. Try not to judge him too harshly.”

Dany snorted derisively as she opened the door and clambered out of the car, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Robb watched her warily, but said nothing. A moment passed between them in which they both thought Dany might bite back, but instead she shook her head and slammed the car door behind her, as hard as she could, and made her way up the porch steps into the house. It wasn’t until she had shut Sansa’s bedroom door behind her that she felt her resolve crumble and she sank down to the floor, repressed tears of frustration and hurt falling freely as Robb’s final words resonated within her mind.

_If only it were that simple._


	4. Life Update

Hello! Flossy (Lauzzkaban) here!

Apologies that this isn’t a chapter! I just wanted to post a little update as I know it’s been a ridiculously long time since I posted despite promising relatively fast updates.

First of all, I just want to say that although this story is short so far I am so grateful to those of you who have read, subscribed, left kudos and commented. I was so nervous about posting this here, because I know that this is a fandom that is very passionate about characters being in-character; that is, like they are in the books/show, and Jon and Dany - even Sansa so far - go in something of a different direction here. I’m humbled and grateful that it’s been taken well so far.

Secondly, I want to apologise from the bottom of my heart for the delay and assure you that I have not forgotten about it or left it behind. Something I’ve not mentioned here before is that I have a 3 year old daughter to care for; she’s at a very challenging and amazing age and keeps me very busy! I also have a few mental illnesses that have required treatment and if I’m honest, my mental health took a bad turn recently and left me unable (or perhaps unwilling) to write. Add to that the massive disappointment I felt at Season 8 of Thrones and I was left with rather a lack of motivation; especially when taking into consideration the direction the next chapter was supposed to go (more on that another time).

Now, I have taken some time to focus on my little girl and getting my mental health back on track - I also decided to hold the next chapter until a little later in the story and write something a bit more uplifting for the next instalment (I think we all need it) - and now I can promise you all that I have the next chapter in the works. I’m not going to put a timeframe on when it will be ready, because I don’t think that would be fair on you all or on myself. But it is coming, that I can assure you.

Thank you again to all of you who have come along for the ride so far, and especially to those of you who are still here patiently waiting for me to get my act together. My gratitude knows no bounds!

I hope you are all well, and having a lovely summer (or winter, depending on your location) and I look forward to chatting with you all again soon!

Love and light, always,  
Flossy  
x


	5. Another update! (Sorry!)

Hello again, everyone!

As before, I am so sorry for the unbelievable delay in updating! I really am working hard on it, but my mental health took a turn for the worst recently and so it’s a bit of a struggle and I have to prioritise my wellbeing - I hope you understand.

I recently read through the chapters I already have written (including the ones not posted yet) and I’m thinking of making a few minor changes to the way the story goes. In light of the final season, this includes changes to the three chapters I’ve already shared and in that case, I’ll be reposting as a new work shortly. As far as I can tell, the title will remain the same however the summary may change, so keep an eye out.

If anyone has any thoughts about any of this I would love to hear from you, whether that’s ideas, criticisms, suggestions or just general well wishes.

I’ve read every single one of your comments and I apologise for not replying to them all but they really mean the world to me, I appreciate every single one of them and I’m so grateful to anyone who’s still with me on this.

I hope you’re all doing well and I hope to be back with you soon.

Love always,  
Flossy x


End file.
